


Dancing in the Rain

by Parker4131970



Category: The Pretender
Genre: Gen, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 03:28:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parker4131970/pseuds/Parker4131970
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A one-shot. Miss Parker finds Jarod walking along the road.  Short read.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing in the Rain

Be still, sad heart, and cease repining.

Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;

Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall,

Some days must be dark and dreary.

Longfellow- _The Rainy Day_  


     It had been unbearably humid all day, beginning as soon as the sun began to rise in the eastern sky. Overhead the clouds would gather and just as quickly drift away. A light breeze kept the humidity from feeling like a true sauna. As the afternoon wore on the clouds began to mount as did the heat. Miss Parker had put the top up on her little, red, sports car so she could run the air conditioner. She longed to take the car out onto the highway and open it up, let the powerful engine stretch its' legs a bit. Instead she was headed back to the Centre for a late meeting. On a whim, Miss Parker turned the radio on. An oldies station came in crystal clear, playing “Susie Q” and “My Girl” A smile spread across her face as she listened to the lyrics of the old songs. They'd been classics the first time she'd heard them as a little girl in her plaid skirt and starched, white, collared shirt. That felt like a million years ago. On the side of the road a tall, dark haired man walked at a comfortable pace. He carried a duffel bag across his back and wore dark slacks and a long sleeve, ocean blue dress shirt, with rolled up sleeves. Miss Parker didn't think anything about it. She passed the figure, her car in the middle of the road for a few feet. When she looked over her sunglasses in the rear view mirror she nearly ground the brakes to hamburger stopping. Jarod's face grinned back at her, a twinkle in his eye. Quickly, Miss Parker pulled a U-turn in the middle of the road. She came to a sharp halt in front of the Pretender. He didn't try to run, didn't try to dodger her. Jarod just continued to walk, his dark eyes locked on her face through the windshield. “Well, well, coming home are we?” Miss Parker opened the door to her car, a Glock handgun in her free hand. “Just passing through, Miss Parker, how are you?” Jarod asked as he stopped to lean on the hood of the car. “Get in.” Miss Parker hissed, her arctic blue eyes boring into him as she held the gun level, centered on his chest. “Now why would I do that?” The Pretender asked, a sarcastic tone to his deep voice. “Please, give me reason to shoot you, Jarod, it would make my day.” The Centre operative rounded the front of the car and pressed the muzzle of the gun against Jarod's chest. “Since you put it that way.” He sighed. Lazily, he opened the door to the sports car and folded himself into the leather upholstered passenger seat. A satisfied smile made Miss Parker's face dazzle. Smugly, she got back in the car and put it in gear. “Well, Miss Parker, I'm surprised you have an automatic, I would have pegged you for a manual.” Jarod commented as they rolled down the country lane past trees and green hills. “Shut up.” Miss Parker snapped, taking a hairpin curve at nearly sixty miles an hour. She felt the car's performance change as soon as she rounded the curve. It wouldn't respond, like a cold fish. She swore under her breath. “What's wrong, Miss Parker, did you forget something?” Jarod asked, leaning toward the middle in order to see the instrument panel. “My gas tank is empty.” She could have strangled Jarod just because he was handy. “I guess you won't make your meeting after all.” The Pretender observed. Miss Parker didn't know how he knew, but he always did. He could see the smoke about ready to blow out of her ears. “I think I can manage you until a Sweeper team arrives from the Centre, we're only a few miles away.” With the handgun still at the ready, she found her phone in the console. Jarod smiled, he knew her cell wouldn't get reception along this stretch of highway. He let her try anyway. “Damn it, no signal.” Miss Parker felt like throwing the mobile phone but didn't. The sky overhead had darkened and the wind had picked up. Trees swayed in the wind and the air smelled fresh and new. Jarod leaned forward and stared through the windshield at the approaching thunder storm. It didn't take a genius Pretender to see that they were in for some weather. “Get out, Jarod, we're walking to the Centre.” Miss Parker rolled up the windows and prepared to exit the vehicle. “We'd be safer inside the vehicle, Miss Parker.” As he finished speaking a clap of thunder shook the small car. A white, glowing streak of lightning followed a few seconds later. Rain began hitting the windshield like pellets. Hail the size of peas began bouncing off the car's hood. “Grr, Jarod.” Miss Parker growled, frustrated. She had places she'd rather be than sitting beside the road with Jarod. “Hey, I'm good, but even I can't do anything about the weather, Miss Parker.” He shrugged, making her even madder. She leaned back against the head rest, her eyes closed, trying not to irritate her ulcer any more than necessary. Jarod watched her, his eyes a little haunted as he remembered the rare time he'd gotten to spend with her as a child at the Centre. She'd been such a headstrong little girl, but with an undercurrent of uncertainty about her. Part of the Pretender wanted to pull her close to him, to tell her that things would be alright, even if that was a lie. After an hour of sitting in the car in the silence Jarod turned the radio back on. He'd heard the music as she'd passed by him walking. “Don't, Jarod.” Miss Parker turned the knob off again, silencing the old, Connie Smith song. “I bet you've never danced in the rain, have you, Miss Parker?” Jarod's voice vibrated in her ear as she tried to quiet her running mind. Without a word she turned to look at him, her head resting against the headrest. “What?” She studied him closely for a moment. The handsome mystery man she'd come to know studied her right back. “Let's dance in the rain, the lightning has stopped.” Jarod turned the radio back on then opened the car door. The rain had turned to a gentle, steady fall. Miss Parker laughed, a genuine, why-the-hell-not, laugh. With a sigh she put her handgun back into the holster in the small of her back. Jarod stepped out of the car then came around and opened her door. She shook her head as she took the hand he offered her like some kind of old world knight. The Pretender bowed slightly as the radio began playing a slow song. Miss Parker slipped easily into his arms, her hand engulfed in his larger one. She felt his warm hand on the small of her back as he led the simple waltz. “Where did you learn to dance like this, Jarod?” Miss Parker asked as her feet fell into step with his movements. “I was a dance instructor in Wichita, Kansas at a retirement home.” He dipped her gently, his arm moving tighter around her waist as he leaned her backward. The mischievous gleam in Jarod's eye wasn't lost on his dance partner. She giggled as he swept her back up and continued dancing. “Is there no end to the things you can do, Jarod?” Miss Parker asked, the steady rain soaking her shoulder length hair and plastering her pink, silk blouse against her lithe body. Humidity no longer hung in the air like a wet blanket. Out of the southwest came a late spring breeze. “I can't do what I'd really like to.” He looked down into her unearthly blue eyes steadily, a mixture of sadness and hunger in his dark eyes. What she saw made Miss Parker's eyes widen almost innocently. A rivulet of water ran down the Pretender's cheek as he held her gaze. His blue shirt lay plastered against his athletic body. A faint blush crept up her neck to her hairline, and nothing made Miss Parker blush. A last, streak of lightning lit the still dark sky behind Jarod, lighting Miss Parker's face for a moment. Without preamble, she removed her hand from his and slipped her fingers into his short, dark, wet hair and pulled him closer. She felt both arms around her as their lips met for the first time since their first kiss as kids at the Centre years ago. Jarod could feel her heartbeat speed up as he kissed Miss Parker, or was it his? He wasn't sure. Miss Parker felt like she'd been waiting these twenty or so years for Jarod to kiss her again. She pulled back for air but dove back in a second time. Her fingers brushed against the stubble along his jaw bone and she could smell his warm, masculine aftershave. She'd forgotten what a well built man Jarod had grown into, with his broad shoulders and slightly above average height. “Miss Parker,” he whispered as they both came up for air. “Now you've danced in the rain.” He leaned his forehead against hers, their eyes locking for a long moment. She kissed his cheek softly, smiling. “Now I've danced in the rain.” She repeated after him with a sigh, running her fingers through is short hair. They continued to stand on the wet pavement for a while longer, enjoying each other's company. Neither of them were in any hurry to part. It didn't seem strange to be standing in the middle of the road, in the dusky light of a late spring storm. “ "Are you going to take me back to the Centre?” Jarod asked softly as they swayed to the music coming from the radio. Miss Parker simply shook her head. How could she take him in after such a passionate exchange? “Next time, Jarod, next time. This never happened, do you understand?” She pulled away from his arms. It was his turn to answer silently. Jarod retrieved his duffel bag from the car and began walking away from the Centre, from Miss Parker, and from what he felt for her Miss Parker would always wonder if perhaps Jarod had planned on dancing in the rain with her. Maybe he'd siphoned her tank? He did know more about her than she knew about herself. The rain would always make her think of dancing, which made her smile, thinking of Jarod. Author's Note: Henry, C. Lewis. Five Thousand Quotations for all Occasions. Doubleday. Garden City.1945. Pg 268. P.S. I can't believe I still remember how to do MLA citation. =)


End file.
